This was no time to press a petty advantage.
'I'll shut my eyes while you sponge up the puddles with a wedge of
moss,' she began. But her brother cut her short. He was very sure of
himself. He was leader beyond all question.
'You follow me,' he commanded firmly, 'and you'll get in somehow.
We'll get all sticky with it. Then we'll come out again and help those
crying people like Tante Jeanne and....' A list of names poured out.
'They'll think us wonderful---'
'We shall be wonderful,' whispered Monkey, obeying, yet peeping with
one big brown eye.
The cataract of starbeams rushed past them in a flood of gold.
They moved towards an opening in the trees where the limestone cliffs
ran into rugged shapes with pinnacles and towers. They found the
entrance in the rocks. Water dripped over it, making little splashes.
The lime had run into hanging pillars and a fringe of pointed fingers.
Past this the river of starlight poured its brilliant golden stream.
Its soft brightness shone yellow as a shower of primrose dust.
'Look out! The Interfering Sun!' gasped Monkey again, awed and
confused with wonder. 'We shall melt in dew or fairy cotton. Don't
you? ... I call it rotten ...!'
'You'll unwind all right,' he told her, trying hard to keep his head
and justify his leadership.
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